Verity
by Celtic Knot
Summary: "Her name was Verity. Which I suppose is ironic, since the 'truth' is precisely what she hid from me." Angels and demons battle for the fate of one woman's soul. Cross-posted on AO3. On indefinite hiatus until I get some of my other WIPs done.
1. Prologue: Of Tongue or Pen

_Author's Note: I'm doing this in a style I've been experimenting with in some of my longer_ Mass Effect _stories_ : _after the Prologue, this story will be narrated aloud by Castiel. The conversation takes place somewhere between 8.22 "Clip Show" and 8.23 "Sacrifice." The events described, as will become obvious, occurred long before the show begins._

* * *

 **Verity**

 _Prologue: Of Tongue or Pen_

Castiel shivered as he wrapped his hands around the mug of coffee on the table, though its warmth would do no more to alleviate the chill he felt than would the caffeine to abate the weariness that dragged at his very bones. He felt sick. Yes, Nephilim were abominations, and this wasn't the first time he'd been sent to destroy one. But just like the last time, it felt wrong. Dangerous or not, abomination or not, they couldn't help what they were. They were not responsible for their own existence. The execution of Akobel over a century ago, however unfortunate, had been just. But the death of his little daughter? Castiel still privately wondered if it had truly been necessary.

And the one he'd killed last night—he didn't even know her name—she had been living her life as a human, undetected by Heaven for nearly thirty years. Yes, it had been necessary to kill her to save Metatron's life, but she had only attacked in self-defense. She might have had a normal, harmless human life if they hadn't confronted her.

But it had been necessary, hadn't it? It was critical that the gates of Heaven be closed before the angels' infighting devastated the Earth. And this was the only way to do it. Castiel would have to keep reminding himself of that.

"Tell me a story, Castiel."

The words, spoken loudly and abruptly, shattered his reverie, and Castiel frowned at the angel seated across from him. "A story?" he asked skeptically.

"Yes, yes, a story!" Metatron cajoled him. "We need something to pass the time, and I've hidden away so long, missed so much…" He raised his eyebrows in what Dean would have derisively called a "puppy face." "Please?"

With a sigh, Castiel protested, "I don't know what kind of story to tell."

"Well, why don't you tell me about you?" suggested Metatron. He leaned forward. "Didn't you used to have a different vessel? What ever happened to her?"

" _No,"_ snapped Castiel abruptly. "I'm not telling you about that. It's not…" He swallowed hard, averting his eyes. "I prefer not to think about it." Few indeed were those who knew that particular tale: Ishim, Mirabel, Benjamin, and the rest of their flight; he could count them on the fingers of one hand. He had no desire to tell it to another, not even—perhaps _especially_ —the Scribe of God.

"Guilty conscience, huh?" Metatron asked, his voice fairly dripping with sympathy. "You know, the humans have a saying. It goes, 'Confession is good for the soul.'"

Castiel glared at him. "We're angels, Metatron. We don't have souls."

"Semantics!" Metatron shot back. "Must you take everything so literally, Castiel? Look, I promise I won't breathe a word of it, on my honor, not even to Dear Old Dad Himself."

With narrowed eyes, Castiel regarded Metatron for a long moment, considering. He'd only just met the Scribe, and had to confess to being a little disappointed. He had always pictured Metatron as an angel of wisdom and knowledge, radiant with the brilliance of the Mind of God. He had imagined him to be solemn, formal, and deliberate, perhaps even a little intimidating. But instead, he was faced with this simpering creature, this self-described "pencil pusher," this irreverent, flippant, frankly _irritating_ being whose presence was decidedly underwhelming, and who now stared at Castiel with a wide-eyed innocence so obviously, intentionally earnest he wasn't sure if he was being played or simply condescended to.

But… this was Metatron. _The_ Metatron, the angel God had trusted to take down His Holy Word. And who was Castiel to question one in whom his Father had placed His faith?

Finally, he conceded with a heavy sigh. "All right," he huffed. "But this doesn't leave this room." He sat back, looking off to one side at nothing in particular—at anything but Metatron's eyes. "Her name was Verity. Which I suppose is ironic, since the 'truth' is precisely what she hid from me…"


	2. Chapter 1: Mission Accomplished

_Author's Note: This chapter contains scenes from episode 12.10, "Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets." Spoilers abound if you haven't seen it yet._

* * *

 _Chapter 1: Mission Accomplished_

"Well, let me back up a little. This was about a century ago, shortly before I got my own command: I was serving under Ishim, with Benjamin, Mirabel, Adaliah, and Zophiel. We were given orders to come to Earth, to find strong vessels and meet at a predetermined location to investigate an 'anomaly.' That's all Ishim would tell us. That, and to hurry. He said he'd explain when we got there.

"Of course, you know how unusual this was. For all six of us to be sent down to Earth—well, it had to be one hell of an 'anomaly.'

"I found myself drawn to a woman, Verity O'Connor, the mother of two young children. She was dying—consumption, they called it at the time, but I think it's called tuberculosis now—and her prayers caught my attention. She wasn't asking to be cured of her illness. She was begging to be admitted to Heaven, with a… an abject desperation that I took for exceptional devotion and repentance for whatever common sins she may have committed. So I spoke to her, told her who I was and what I wanted of her, and administered the usual test of faith by having her put her hand in the fireplace. I didn't ask a lot of questions. Her past didn't seem relevant, as I had no intention of staying in her body after the mission was done. She would disappear for a few days, then return to her family, having made a miraculous recovery.

"That was the plan, anyway.

"When I assured her that this service to the angels would all but guarantee her a place in Paradise, she gave me her consent. But even once I'd taken over her body, I could tell she was hiding something from me. I don't think she was even doing it consciously. I was curious, but I didn't pry, instead giving her what privacy I could.

"What I did get from her, when I healed her disease, was overwhelming gratitude. _Thank you, thank you,_ she said, over and over. _You saved me._

"Her effusion was disconcerting, and made me more than a little uncomfortable. I felt like I should be the one thanking her. But she was so… so happy, I couldn't bring myself to say anything.

"There wasn't time to puzzle over it, though, and I went to meet up with Ishim and the rest of our flight. We gathered in the woods outside a large yellow house. 'Castiel,' said Ishim, 'are we all here?'

"Mirabel and Benjamin were with us, and I could sense Zophiel and Adaliah nearby, approaching. 'Yes,' I replied. I couldn't shake the feeling that we were doing something illicit, coming to Earth like that, especially since we still didn't know what our mission was. But it wasn't my place to question our orders, so I held my tongue, trusting that we would be given direction in due time.

"Benjamin, however, was less patient. You know how he can be. 'Why are we even on Earth?' he sighed. 'It's so wet.'

"'Stop complaining,' Mirabel snapped.

"Ishim brought us to order with a glare. 'We are here,' he said, 'because one of our fellow angels has taken a human wife.' He hesitated briefly, then continued, almost sadly, 'They also have a small daughter.'

"I was horrified by the thought, of course. 'A Nephilim?' I demanded. 'You're sure?' To be honest, I'm still kind of surprised I hadn't sensed the surge of power that occurs when such a being is created. But then, it had been millennia since the last time that had happened, so perhaps I simply hadn't recognized the feeling for what it was. I don't know.

"Ishim, for his part, looked at me like I was an idiot. 'Father has wings,' he practically spat, 'Mother's a primate. And this child… has a human soul mixed with angelic grace.' He fixed me with a stare that dared me to question him further. 'And that's—'

"'Dangerous,' Mirabel interrupted. I could see the same dread I felt written in the stony set of her face. 'Nephilim are forbidden by the oldest laws in Heaven.'

"Benjamin didn't understand the significance of what was happening. He was the youngest of us, and a little self-centered, and usually paid little attention to what happened outside his own immediate sphere. 'We jumped down here for a kid?' he asked, confused.

"Ishim only rolled his eyes at that, so I explained. 'Nephilim grow up; they grow into their power,' I said. 'And then—'

"Mirabel cut in once again. _'Entire worlds die,'_ she intoned ominously. An exaggeration, of course, a legend, designed to impress upon Benjamin the urgency and necessity of what I now understood to be our mission here. You know as well as I do that no Nephilim has ever been allowed to reach that point, and we don't truly know what a fully mature one is actually capable of. But her point was made, and Benjamin backed down.

"'So we've come to set things right,' said Ishim, with a… a nonchalance that bothered me a little. His whole attitude was… off, somehow, and whatever it was seemed to be directed at me.

"I would soon find out why: the Nephilim's father was Akobel, a dear friend of mine. To learn that it was he who had done this was deeply disturbing to me, as you might imagine. But the Law was clear, and there could be no mercy.

"I don't… Akobel and I shared a particular fascination with humans, particularly human children. I mean, yes, our Father commanded us to love them, but how could we not? I still don't understand how any angels can hold them in the kind of contempt Ishim does. They're not perfect, by any means, but they _try._ They build, they create, they laugh, they love—they walk the Earth for only a few short decades, but they fill those years with so much _life._ And their children—so pure, so innocent, so full of… of potential, I don't see how anyone can look at them and not recognize them as the… the shining jewel of all Creation. You've spent so many centuries collecting their stories—surely you see it, too?

"Well, Akobel did. He and I used to spend hours at a time just watching children play, and when he was sent to Earth with the specific mission to study humans, he was overjoyed. And I was happy for him. I never once imagined that it might come to this.

"Akobel knew as soon as he saw us what we meant to do, of course, and naturally he got defensive. 'You have no business here,' he insisted as we approached.

"'Me?' Ishim shot back. 'You were sent here to observe humanity, to watch and to learn. But instead, taking up with a filthy animal—have you no shame?' His words set my teeth on edge.

"'Who are you to lecture me about shame?' Akobel demanded. The question confused me, and I vowed to ask Ishim later what he meant by that. But it wasn't the time then, as Akobel continued, saying what I wished I could. 'Humans aren't animals. Most of them are good, and true, and… How could anyone know them and _not_ love them?' he pleaded.

"But Ishim was unmoved. 'Touching,' he replied, 'but we're not—'

"'I know why you're here,' Akobel hissed, and he… he drew his blade on us, tried to fight us. Benjamin and Mirabel restrained him before I was forced to harm him, but as the battalion's second-in-command, it fell to me to read the charges against him.

"It was the most difficult thing I'd ever had to do up that point. It took every ounce of discipline I had to bury my sadness under a mask of moral outrage as I began, 'Akobel, Seraphim of the Sixth Choir, you have lain with a human and you fathered a Nephilim.'

"Akobel tried to protest, and his genuine surprise caught me off-guard. But it was Ishim's reaction that stunned me into silence: he lunged at Akobel and grabbed him by the throat, choking off any further attempt to speak. 'Continue,' he said calmly.

"I had no choice but to do as ordered. 'You have broken our most sacred oath,' I forced out, and the penalty is—'

"But before I could say 'death,' Mirabel had already rammed her blade into his gut at Ishim's nod. He was never… they didn't let him answer the charges. I was shocked by this, but I couldn't let it show in front of the others. It wasn't my place to question Ishim's authority.

"Much has changed since then, Metatron. Especially in the last five years.

"Anyway, Ishim destroyed the Nephilim himself, and we left with the child's screams still ringing in my ears. The entire encounter left me feeling… unsettled. Like I'd missed something. I never did figure it out, and it's bothered me ever since."

* * *

Metatron's bushy eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Why, Castiel, you almost sound like you sympathize… with the Nephilim."

"Maybe I do," Castiel replied defiantly. "And so what? Have you ever seen a Nephilim cause actual harm to anyone? We've been… indoctrinated all our lives to see them as abominations. It's almost a reflex to want to wipe them out." He thought of what Naomi had done to him, programming and reprogramming his mind, and felt suddenly sick. "But what if that's wrong?"

"What if…" Metatron started to echo the question, and trailed off in disbelief. Then a crooked smile started to spread slowly across his face. "You're beginning to question the Laws of Heaven itself."

Castiel stared back at him, startled by the accusation. It was one thing for angels, even archangels, to be wrong, to be corrupt. But the fundamental laws of Heaven—they were older than the angels, older than the Universe itself. If those could be wrong… He backpedaled quickly, dizzied by the implications. "No!" He swallowed hard. "No, that's not what I—"

"Relax, Castiel," said Metatron. "We'll need that, after we lock down the Pearly Gates. That's good." He nodded to himself. "Very good, indeed." He rested his chin in one hand and eyed Castiel thoughtfully. "Please... continue."


	3. Chapter 2: Faith and Trust

_Chapter 2: Faith and Trust_

"Once our mission was complete, I had no further need to keep a human vessel, so I returned to Verity's home. _Thank you,_ I told her. _You have done a great service to Heaven. It will not be forgotten._

"But before I could leave her, she spoke. She was dazed, disoriented, overwhelmed as humans tend to become when they're possessed by an angel, but she had maintained some limited awareness of her surroundings throughout the ordeal. _Wait,_ she said. _Did you save the child?_

"I stopped, not sure how to answer that. _The child?_ I repeated, maybe a little dumbly.

" _Yes, the child,_ she snapped impatiently. She was growing more and more lucid as we conversed, so I created an illusion for her that would allow us to talk… face-to-face, as it were. She would have seen me as a duplicate of herself, which was probably disconcerting, but she took it with remarkable aplomb. Actually, she was scowling at me.

"'I heard a little girl scream,' she said, and her face and tone softened. 'And I could… I could feel how it affected you. How it still affects you. It's making my blood run cold.' She stepped close to me, her eyes searching my own. 'Castiel… what happened?'

"Thinking about it did bring on a chill—a very strange feeling, as I wasn't really used to being in a vessel yet. I had to keep telling myself we'd done the right thing. After all, Heaven's laws are absolute. But Akobel _was_ my friend, and I regretted the necessity of his death. I still do. And as for the Nephilim… well, I just had to have faith that the edicts of Heaven were just. To think otherwise was frankly inconceivable to me at the time.

"But when I tried to explain it to Verity… she didn't quite see it that way.

"'It wasn't a child, precisely,'I said carefully.

"She backed away a little and folded her arms. _'It?'_ she demanded sternly.

"'It was a Nephilim, a-a monster,' I told her. I glared back at her to emphasize my point—and to try to hide my own doubts. 'That "child" would have grown up to wreak havoc you couldn't possibly imagine.'

"Not in the least intimidated, she held my gaze for a silent moment, considering. Then abruptly she asked, 'Do angels know the future?'

"The non-sequitur caught me off guard, and I blinked at her, confused. 'Excuse me?'

"'Do angels. Know. The future,' she repeated, hands on her hips, her tone clipped and biting.

"Unsure of where this line of questioning had come from, I replied slowly, 'We're capable of some limited time travel, but it's difficult. And we have experience with history and prophecy that make us uniquely able to predict patterns of events. But if you're asking if angels are actually prescient—no, no more than humans are.' I frowned. 'Why do you ask?'

"She nodded, a look of grim triumph on her face. 'So,' she accused, 'you don't actually _know_ what this… what did you call her, Nephilim? …what this Nephilim would have done. Only what she _could_ have done.' Her eyes widened as she studied me, and all of a sudden, the breath left her in a rush. 'No, it's worse than that,' she whispered in horror. 'You _don't_ know what she could have done. You have no evidence. You killed that little girl because of a… a _taboo.'_

"'Verity, I didn't—' I began, but she cut me off with a gesture.

"'I don't care whose hands it was that murdered her!' she shouted, her posture rigid with rage. 'How many of you were there? You're all complicit. And you made _me_ complicit! If I had known I'd be party to this kind of atrocity…' Her eyes filled with tears, and when she spoke again, her voice was soft and unsteady. 'I trusted you, Castiel. And you _betrayed_ me.'

"I bowed my head with a sigh, and tried one more time to make her understand. 'Verity, the Laws of Heaven—'

"But that was apparently the wrong thing to say, because her anger came roaring back. 'Heaven? _Heaven?_ Do you really expect me to believe that God would… that angels…' She trailed off and backed further away, stumbling, an expression of utter terror on her face. 'You _lied_ to me,' she breathed. 'You're not an angel, are you? Who are you? _What_ are you? What do you want from me?'

"To be honest, that stung a little. 'I assure you, everything I told you is the truth,' I insisted. 'Regardless of what you choose to believe, I _am_ an angel of the Lord. I needed a physical body to effect my mission here on Earth. And I cannot remain in yours without your permission.'

"But it was no use. 'Oh, you can't, can you?' she bit out. 'Well, you have it no longer!' She pointed a trembling finger at me, eyes blazing. _'I cast you out!'_

"And then everything was light and sound and pain.

"Don't look at me like that. Have you ever been forcibly expelled from a vessel, Metatron? It's like… like being turned inside out and crushed through a sieve. At high speed. It's _not_ an experience I'd care to repeat. It left me reeling, disoriented and exhausted. For a while, I couldn't even summon the wherewithal to limp back to Heaven. So I stayed near the house, invisible, nursing my weakened grace and wounded pride.

"By nightfall, I'd recovered enough to consider going home, but something held me back. An inexplicable sense of foreboding. I was on edge, tense and watchful. And so I lingered nearby, trusting my instincts and hoping I was wrong.

"I wasn't wrong.

"At the very stroke of midnight, when Verity and her children were sound asleep, I heard it. The growling of a large, savage beast—no, two beasts. Yet I saw nothing. Then they began barking, and I froze for a moment in utter shock when I recognized what I was hearing.

"Yes, hellhounds. They were invisible to me, of course, but I could track them by the way their claws tore up the earth as they walked, and they were approaching Verity's home. They were coming for someone in the house! I knew I could fight them off, but I needed a vessel, and quickly. There wasn't time to try to regain Verity's trust, so I turned to the nearest suitable candidate: her nine-year-old son, Patrick.

"I appeared to young Patrick in a dream. I'm not sure how he saw me—perhaps as a bright light, or perhaps like one of the winged and robed statues in the village church. There wasn't time for me to create an elaborate illusion to make him comfortable. But he was brave and his faith was strong, and he let me in.

"Not a moment too soon, either. No sooner did I get up from the boy's bed than the hellhounds came crashing through the front door, waking and terrifying the rest of the family. They bounded directly toward the master bedroom as though they knew the house, bypassing both Patrick's and his younger sister Theresa's rooms without hesitation.

"Verity's husband was away on business that night. Which could only mean the hounds were after her.

"In an instant, I placed myself between her and the beasts. They would be upon us in seconds, and I was determined to protect her. She screamed when she saw me. 'Patrick, no!' she cried.

"I didn't answer. Fighting blind was… challenging. But the hounds were huge and the room small, so I could locate them by furniture they pushed aside, by the scratches they left in the hardwood floor, and by following Verity's gaze.

"I drew my angel blade, and the beasts paused, growling. They knew what I was. But they had the scent of their prey, and could not be deterred long. One lunged forward and I slashed at it, drawing blood but unable to land a killing blow. The creature yelped and snarled, but drew back a step. The other tried the same, but I spun to let it pass and then buried my blade to the hilt in its back. Black blood geysered forth when I pulled it out, and for a brief moment I could see both of them outlined in gore. That was all I needed. My hands found their heads in an instant, and I smote them with every ounce of grace I possessed.

"They vanished into smoke and embers. Drained and exhausted, I fell to my knees as Verity gaped in astonishment. 'I… am not… your son,' I managed to say.

"She stared for a moment, uncomprehending, then recognition dawned and she gasped, _'Castiel?'_

"I could only nod.

"'What are you doing here?' she demanded, adrenaline making her voice shrill.

"Slowly, I looked up at her and began to climb to my feet. 'Saving your life, apparently,' I said. 'Again.' I drew myself up to my full height—well, Patrick's full height, which, while not inconsiderable for a boy of his age, was objectively not very impressive—and fired back a question of my own. 'Verity, what have you done?'

"Her answering laugh was one of anger and disbelief. 'What have _I_ done? You think I'm somehow responsible for those… _creatures_ attacking my family?'

"'Not your family,' I snapped. 'Just you. Those creatures were hellhounds, sent by a demon to drag your soul into the Pit.' I glared at her. 'Did you make a deal with a demon? The truth, now!'

"'No!' she insisted, horrified. 'No, I would never…' she trailed off, eyes wide, then shook her head. 'No. Never.'

"In hindsight, I probably should have pressed her. But you'd think a person would remember selling her soul. My mind was already buzzing with questions and implications and possibilities, each stranger than the last. Only one thing was clear. 'I can protect you until we figure this out,' I said, 'but to do so… you have to trust me.'

"She nodded. 'Okay.'

"'You have to let me back in.'

"That gave her pause. She eyed me warily and asked, 'What about my family?'

"'We will have to leave them for a time,' I admitted. 'But as long as we stay away, I don't believe they'll be in any danger. When this is over, I'll return you to them. I promise.'

"Verity drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders, the set of her jaw determined. 'Then… yes.'

"Leaving a vessel of my own accord was far less… taxing than before. I gave Verity a few moments to say goodbye to Patrick and Theresa and to reassure them that their father would be home in the morning, then I rejoined her and returned immediately to Heaven."


	4. Chapter 3: The Game's Afoot

_Chapter 3: The Game's Afoot_

"Normally, I'd bring an event of this significance straight to Ishim's attention. But with nothing but speculation to go on, I knew what he would say: he'd tell me to abandon Verity to her fate and think no more of it. What was one human to him? But even in so short a time, she had become more than just another human to me. I felt an… obligation to her. Especially now that I'd promised to protect her. I couldn't turn my back on her now.

"So I sought out Zophiel, to whom I and many other angels often turned for his gentle wisdom. I knew he also shared my sympathies for humankind. If anyone would understand—and be inclined to help—he would.

"'Castiel,' he greeted me as I approached. 'You look troubled. Though I can't say I'm surprised; that was a nasty bit of business down there. It must have been hard on you—I know you and Akobel were close.'

"I gritted my teeth. 'And so does Ishim,' I ground out. 'I suspect he volunteered our unit for that very reason.' Zophiel raised an eyebrow at that, and I waved him off before he could comment. 'But that's not why I'm here. I have a… a situation, and I need your help.'

"I laid out the whole story for him, just as I have for you. Zophiel listened thoughtfully, then said, 'Hellhounds? The implications of this are disturbing, Castiel. Intelligence Division should know about it; we should go to Naomi immediately.'

"Even then, even before… I didn't trust Naomi. She 'gave me the creeps,' as Sam might say. Maybe some part of me subconsciously remembered what she'd done to me in the past, I don't know. All I knew then was that the very mention of her name struck fear into my heart. 'No!' I snapped, perhaps a little more harshly than I'd intended. Then more calmly, I continued, 'No, I want to investigate it myself first. If I find any evidence of larger-scale demon activity, I'll take it higher up. Straight to Michael, if I have to. But right now, there are many questions and few answers, and I could use some assistance.'

"Zophiel studied me for a long moment, still and silent. Then he nodded. 'Very well. Where do you propose we begin?'

"'We'll go back to Earth,' I said. 'We need to track down this demon, and find out what it wants with Verity.'

"Zophiel frowned. 'Your vessel? You said she didn't sell her soul. Are you certain she was the target? What could a demon possibly want with her, over any other human?'

"The question took me somewhat by surprise. 'Why else would the hounds have attacked her?' I countered.

"'Perhaps they were after _you,'_ he said with a raised eyebrow.

"' _Me?'_ I demanded. The thought truly hadn't occurred to me. 'Then I could ask the same question you did—what would a demon want with _me?'_

"Zophiel bit his lip in a remarkably human gesture of reluctance. 'Perhaps it sees you as… an easy target.'

"All I could do was blink at him in astonishment. 'An easy… I don't understand.'

"He sighed. 'I don't know how to say this…' Zophiel refused to meet my eyes, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable. 'Obedience… has never exactly been your strength, Castiel,' he hedged. 'Surely you know that. You question, you push boundaries, you can be a little bit… defiant, at times. You're more emotional than the other angels. It drives the archangels to distraction; it's the reason you have to be constantly…' His face went blank as he trailed off.

"'Constantly what?' I challenged him. Suddenly angry, furious, I grabbed him by the lapels of his vessel's jacket and yanked him toward me to snarl in his face. 'Constantly _what,_ Zophiel?'

"He didn't answer directly, saying instead, hesitantly, 'I just mean that… perhaps the demons see some… similarities… between you and a certain… elder brother.'

"I was utterly shocked by that, as you might imagine. And the human body goes through the strangest feelings when the mind is dealt that kind of blow. For a moment, I couldn't breathe, I saw nothing but white, and I couldn't feel my hands at all. I released Zophiel and stumbled back a step while I tried to get a hold of myself. _'How dare you?'_ I growled. 'I fought _against_ the legions of Lucifer. I stood for God, for Heaven and all Creation, when he waged his war upon it all! And you were right there beside me!'"

* * *

Castiel looked up to find their waitress standing beside the table, a pot of fresh coffee in her hand and a bemused expression on her face, and realized suddenly how loudly he'd been speaking. "Oh, um… hello," he stammered as he cast about for an explanation for the undoubtedly strange things she'd overheard.

Metatron, however, was quicker on his feet. "He's a method actor," he said glibly. "Don't mind him, he's just in character. Aren't you, 'Castiel?'" He made air quotes with his fingers at Castiel's name.

Not entirely understanding, Castiel played along anyway. "Uh, yes, that's right. I'm an actor. I was… acting."

"Uh-huh, okay," the waitress—Stacey, according to her nametag—replied slowly, looking unconvinced. She held out the carafe. "More coffee, gentlemen?"

Castiel nodded wordlessly, and thanked her when she refilled his cup. He watched as she left, throwing the occasional skeptical glance back his way, and when she was out of earshot again, he continued more quietly.

* * *

"I think Zophiel was a little bit afraid of me then, because he held up his hands and backed away a little further. 'I know, Castiel. I remember,' he said. 'I would never question your loyalty. I'm only saying that someone in Hell may be drawing different conclusions.'

"I studied him with narrowed eyes, not entirely believing him, but not finding any trace of deceit in him, either. Of course, if I had known then what I know now, I never would have trusted him at all.

"You'll find out. Hey, you asked for a story, Metatron. Now let me tell it.

"So back to Earth we went, to try and track this demon. Whether he was after me or Verity was more or less academic, anyway: either way, she wouldn't be safe until he was dead or banished back to Hell. Preferably dead.

"We started by looking for standard demon omens in the vicinity of Orono, Maine, where Verity lived. You know, cattle mutilations, freak lightning storms, that sort of thing. Anything that might help us get read on where the demon might be holed up. It was harder than I'd anticipated, not having the resources of Heaven or even our full battalion to draw on. Finding these omens, as you know, would normally fall to Intelligence Division, and then a flight of angels would be deployed to eliminate the threat. But I wasn't ready to report this, not yet. I couldn't say why, at the time, but something compelled me to keep my investigation as quiet as I could.

"I was perfectly aware that there would be serious consequences if—when—my extracurricular activities were discovered. I just didn't particularly care.

"The first few leads we chased down turned out to be nothing. Sometimes a dead cow is a sign of nothing but a pack of hungry wolves. But finally, we tracked the demon to a small house on the outskirts of town. It was set back from the main road, screened by trees. The property was unkempt and littered with leaves and fallen branches. Vines crawled up the walls of the house over peeling paint. The shutters were closed over the windows.

"When I first laid eyes on it, I could feel Verity's surprise like a sharp intake of breath. _What is it?_ I asked her.

"She hesitated, and I could feel her fear—and something else I could swear was guilt. _I… I've been here before,_ she finally admitted.

" _When?_ I demanded. _Did you meet someone here?_

"Her response was careful, measured, and clearly evasive. She was definitely hiding something. _About ten years ago—no, exactly ten years ago,_ she said. _I needed… advice from the woman who lives here._

" _What kind of advice? Who is she?_ I pressed.

" _She's a… local midwife,_ she hedged. _I wanted a child, more than anything, but every doctor I saw told me I was barren. I was desperate, I…_ She grew suddenly defensive. _I didn't seek her out and ask her to perform witchcraft! It's not a sin to make medicine of the plants God created, is it?_

"I didn't answer her, instead turning to Zophiel. 'This is the place,' I said aloud.

"Zophiel was suspicious. 'Surely we're getting closer, but this must be a trap. It's too obvious.'

"'You're probably right,' I agreed. 'The demon likely isn't here, but the woman who lives here is a witch. She may be able to lead us to him, given the right… persuasion.'

"Zophiel grinned wolfishly. 'What's our next move, then?'

"I had to suppress a smile of my own at the anticipation of the battle ahead. Instead, I raised my eyebrows at him and said, 'We spring the trap.'"


End file.
